The best things
by blueball
Summary: People say that the best things comes to you after the worst have passed. He had always been one to believe such words; they were the truth. Then the most precious person of them all disappeared from his world. This pain couldn't possibly pass. Deisaso.
1. Prologue

The Best Things...

*Prologue*

People say that the best things happen after the worst.

Deidara had always believed those who spoke in such a way. The way he lived, the things that had happened to him and everyone else around him proved this. For example, when he was five (as most know, certain memories fail to leave you even as you grow older), his dog died of old age. He had been closely tied to the animal, so when it never woke up again his whole world had crumbled down. It had always been like that for him; when he lost something, he felt sad for a while. However, all of a sudden he would start feeling better, and only a month after the death of his beloved pet, he was laughing and acting as if it was long forgotten. It wasn't, of course; the memory of his dog remained in his thoughts forever, much like any other precious friend or item had been lost or broken.

Even though he found it difficult and hard to handle the first few days, he had always found a way through it. Because of this, he had come to love those words that the old people always uttered to themselves during bad times;

The best things happen after the worst.

Then _it_ happened, and he could no longer be sure if he would be able to get through the usually short experience of loss and vulnerability.

* * *

**Finally I've managed to write something that seems to be more than a simple oneshot. **


	2. Chapter 1

The Best Things...

*Chapter 1*

He was nineteen this year. The number somewhat amused him, because it wasn't that long ago that he had just become a teenager, and then had his confirmation. He had noticed that for some reason, time seemed to move a lot faster the older you grew. Many times had he tried to figure out why it was like this, but he came to the same conclusion every time;

When you get older, you lose the childish mind more and more, and you begin to plan ahead. You try to start something new. At least... that was what it was like to himself.

Himself...

Sasori was his name. He had turned nineteen just a few months ago, about the same time his grandmother had passed away. It hadn't been a huge loss. Of course, he had loved the old woman with all of his heart, which was the least he could do; Chiyo had always been around to take care of him when his parents could not. This caused the woman to be around him all the time. At first it had only been a couple of hours a day, while his parents were at work and then, later, at the local bar. They always came home early, so she left when they arrived. However, as it got worse and Sasori's parents managed to drive off a bridge, neither of them sober enough to see the road clearly – something the old woman had told him when he had become old enough to know what alcohol was – and she adopted him.

Now that she was gone and he was legal, he didn't want to linger in his hometown anymore. Sasori needed to get away for a while, even if he was over the death, and experience new things; see the world even.

This had never been one of his dreams before Christmas, which he had spent all alone for the first time of his life. Of course, he had received a lot of gifts and food from friends and other families, but it wasn't enough for him; the care that they gave him just wasn't enough.

Sasori needed his own family, and to have that, he would have to create it.

"I won't be around for your birthday." he said out loud from where he sat on a pile of hard snow.

His snowboard stood up from the white mass to the left of him. It was all dark blue except for the upper, right corner, which was painter red. He had done that himself, when he realized that a lot of kids had the same board as him; the redhead didn't want his to bestolen or taken away by mistake. To match his board, the he was dressed in a white outing jacket with a single red streak crossing right beneath his shoulder blades. It had a hood and deep pockets for him to hide and keep his belongings. His pants, the typical snowboarding pants, were blue, but they wore a lighter shade than the board itself.

On his right side sat another teenager, a year and a half younger than himself. Hidan was his name, and despite the slight age difference, they got along very well (in their town, there was a 'rule' that stated that children would have to be friends with children their own age. This had been decided by a couple of kids that Hidan knew better than himself). His friend had a board as well. It was longer than his own (since Sasori only reached 164 centimeters -5'4-, and the other was 177 cm) and pure white with the word 'Freedom' in blue letters.

They both loved to snowboard, but once they were done, they could end up sitting together in silence (or talk) for a couple of hours, unless his silver haired friend had to return home for dinner or homework. Sasori didn't have to go home for dinner and he didn't have any homework (he had dropped out of school after his grandmother's death despite the fact that it had been his last year).

"Why?" the teenager asked, looking over at him with a curious, yet confused expression, "are you going somewhere?"

"Yeah. I might head south."

* * *

"How..." Deidara began, pausing to think; he had never really thought about saying anything before the word escaped his lips. His brain mind wouldn't work properly. It just didn't cooperate when he told himself that he needed to find something to say. Even though he became kind of mad, he had to admit that it was understandable. After what happened, it was weird that he was saying anything at all.

The blond was twenty two years old. He had been in a romantic relationship with the most incredible person for three years, and now he wouldn't be able to see the other anymore. He didn't know what had happened, no one had really explained anything to him other than the fact that Kisame was gone -dead, and never to be seen again.

How could this have happened?

A warm hand came in touch with his bare shoulder and he turned to see his mother there, smiling sadly. She was obviously trying to comfort him, but he couldn't say that it was working. In fact, it was making it all worse; if people acknowledged this happening, then they would sympathize with him. He just didn't need that.

"I know this is hard to understand in such a situation, dear, but things will get better." she spoke, giving him the advice that he always had believed in.

Would things get better?

The way it looked now, he would never be able to forget this. He would always remember his boyfriend, no matter what. It would stay like that, forever.

Forever.

The word made his body shudder, and his shoulders raised themselves hurriedly -as if to shield him from anything or anyone else in the room- as tears suddenly began to escape his red and swollen eyes once again. It wasn't the first time he had cried today; Deidara had let the tears run free the moment he had come into his and Kisame's apartment to see that the man was nowhere in sight. His mother had then called him and asked if she could come over to comfort him. The woman had lost her husband a year or two after the blond was born, so he had told her yes when he remembered this.

She most likely knew what it was like, he had thought.

However, the moment his mother had entered the room, Deidara realized that it had been a mistake to let her come. He would have had it much better on his own, even if that meant lying on the bed, weeping as he held Kisame's pillow close to himself.

"Did they... t-tell you what happened, mom?" he asked, forcing his shoulders down as he turned his head to look at the forty seven years old woman. The blond had never been afraid to let his mother see him cry. He guessed it was because of the way she had raised him. Besides, the tears were only fleeting. They would be gone soon, and it would all be forgotten. Everything would return to normal, and he would smile again. Although... Kisame wouldn't be there.

Deidara had never gone a day without seeing his boyfriend for three years. How was he supposed to cope with not seeing the man he had fallen in love with for the rest of his life?

"I'm not sure that you should know right now." she told him, her voice slightly harsh, as if she was trying to prove to them both that she could decide this. Unfortunately for his mother, she couldn't. He was a grown man, he had been -no, he was Kisame's lover, and he had the right to know.

They both knew it.

"Mom, yeah," he warned as he sent the woman a serious look, "I want you to tell me what happened."

She looked hesitant, something that was understandable. Despite this -despite the fact that he knew she didn't want to tell him how his boyfriend died-, he would even force the answer out of her. If she didn't speak, Deidara would go to those who couldn't say no to him.

"He was run over," she said.

For a moment it seemed like this was the only information she would give him. He was almost forced to ask her again, but apparently she had just taken a short pause. Well that, or she realized that he needed to know more about it.

"He had been walking alongside that dangerous road, the one without a pathway and where it's always a bit slippery." his mother continued, and for every word, he felt as if something cold went down his back, causing fear for his beloved dead one to rise.

"The car came towards him, and apparently didn't see him in time, because the driver had to hit the brakes hard. The sudden braking caused the driver to lose control of the car."

It was silent after that for a good while. Deidara couldn't really find it in himself to say anything yet. Just the fact that Kisame was gone and out of the world was hard information to devour. It was his own fault that he now knew what had happened; he regretted asking, but he had known that it was better hearing it from his mother than anyone else.

A new pair of tears made their way down his cheeks and he brought his hand up to wipe them away. The day had started out so perfectly; he'd woken up to the smell of delicious food and a wonderful boyfriend. They had eaten together, shared a kiss and then he had been left alone in the apartment for a while before he went out to snowboard with some of his friends.

They had been out there for hours, just having fun and eating their homemade lunches (his had been made by Kisame, of course). Deidara was having such a good time, and he had thought that the day only could get better. They had made plans...

All of those _plans_ had been canceled by a single phone call.

* * *

Sasori lifted his foot from the gas and pressed down on the clutch. He then proceeded to set the car into its 5th gear. Releasing the clutch, he made sure to give a little gas at the same time so his beloved car wouldn't die on him. The redhead smiled lightly; driving was something he enjoyed doing. The speed and the fact that you could get to wherever whenever (as long as you had money for gas) was all good to him, both to get away and for the sake of excitement.

It was Hidan who had taught him to drive. It was three years ago, if he remembered correctly, and that even despite the fact that the silver haired teenager was younger than himself.

The other had been allowed to drive for a long time now. Hidan was taught to drive a car by his father already as a nine year old boy. Sasori had found this very unfair. He had been quite jealous, but admitting something like that had been out of question for many years now.

Sasori had always been a quiet and serious boy. Intellectual and silent, but not afraid to voice his thoughts and tell others what he meant. Around people that he considered as his friends he was never afraid to let out a laugh and have fun.

Speaking of laughing…

He wondered if he would get any friends down there, at least during the following six months; he would be working until the autumn came (which would be around the end of August), and from then on he would try to finish his last year in high school and get a proper education. And although he didn't know which line of work or what kind of work he wanted to do when he was done, Sasori believed that it would be a good idea to have some sorts of competence.

With a soft sigh, the redhead let his right hand fall from the wheel and over to the radio. He pressed the biggest button and music immediately filled the car. The sound was loud and annoying even though it was his favourite song playing; he always seemed to be lucky that way. Whenever he turned on the radio, they were playing songs that he was quite fond of. Or maybe he just had a very weird taste of music and liked everything…

Before his right hand returned to the wheel, he turned the sound down a bit; getting a headache or a tired head when he had eight long hours in front of him was something he didn't want.

Shit… what had he just done – leaving his hometown all of a sudden?

* * *

Despite the fact that he'd had his day off from work three days ago, Deidara didn't manage to pull himself out of bed this morning either.

Fortunately his boss had told him to take his time to recover. However, he did not get more than a week. Apparently, they were short on workers, a thing he must have failed to notice the last time he was there. The blond had to admit that it was quite unfair to only give him a week off, since he had lost a very precious person; it wasn't enough time for him to heal, even if he usually got over things rather easily.

He knew that he had to go next week, no matter what. It wasn't because of his boss needing him there, of course. No, it was that damned rent that had to be paid. The State wouldn't wait for anything. Not even death.

Deidara reached for his cell phone on the nightstand table and pressed the button on the top of the device (which, by the way, was a Sony Ericsson U10i). The big screen lit up in a grey light and big white numbers told him that he was short on time.

"Fuck, yeah."

Kisame's memorial would start in two hours only, and he would have to get both himself and the apartment fixed until that time. Breakfast (or rather an early dinner, considering the time) would have to be made, he would have to shower and then vacuum the living room; after his boyfriend's death, the blond hadn't bothered to clean.

With a soft groan, Deidara rolled out of the huge, soft bed and let his feet meet the floor. The surface was so cold that it sent shivers up his spine, and he wanted to crawl straight back into the heat under his quilt.

He took his first steps into the cold, dark room and over to the wall by the door. Letting his fingers slide down the wall, he found a switch and pressed it down. Light suddenly flooded into the bedroom, giving light to everything that had been dark and miserable. Everything except him.

The room wasn't very big, and despite the unfamiliar cold, it was a very comfortable and warm room. Two of the walls, the one right in front of him and the one behind him, were painted in a faint yellow colour. The other two, the shortest walls, were a light blue. He had painted it himself, being a painter and all. Their- no, his bedroom was in a rectangular form.

Closing his eyes, his hand went from the switch and over to the door handle. The door opened without a sound and Deidara slipped out of the room.

It appeared that people hadn't expected him to arrive to the memorial, and he couldn't really blame them. Deidara hadn't exactly been social for the last few days, and now he suddenly appeared in the church alone. They tried not to stare at him, but he noticed that a few couldn't help but to let their eyes linger on him for a few more seconds (although minutes were more like it) than necessary.

He decided to ignore everyone and sat down on the empty bench in the back of the room, where only those closest to the door to his right could spare him glances without being very obvious.

As he himself took a look around, he could see a lot of familiar faces. All of his friends were present, something that moved him to the bone. They were all men, neither of them really showing what they felt. Now they were sitting up to his right, looking ahead with sorrowful expressions. Kisame had been a friend of many. He had been a great cook and a great man with strong personality.

"Hello, everyone. I am happy to see so many people here today after such a tragic accident has happened." a woman's voice rang through the room, startling him slightly.

An old woman had appeared on the other side of the room. She was dressed in the usual priest gown and had an open bible in her hands. Deidara had never seen her before, so she had to be new.

"My name is Ellen, and I'm your new priest. I'm here today to hold a memorial for a beloved man named Kisame, a man who was dear to you all." she said before sending a nod towards her right. Music from a piano suddenly filled the room.

Hearing the calm sounds made him realize how tense he had been and relax.

* * *

The bridge came up in front of Sasori and his car around eight in the night, and excitement filled his whole being. He had never been in Tromsø before, so finding out where his apartment was could become a challenge where his patience would be tested. He had a GPS to guide him, but it had pointed him in the wrong direction several times already.

The redhead had to stop for a red light. As he waited, he took his time to look around himself. To his right lay a triangle-looking building, known as the city's church. It was amazing; fantastically built.

His deep brown eyes moved to the garden and immediately spotted a blond man (despite the long blond hair, it was kind of easy to see that it wasn't a woman) standing in front of the glass wall. Had it been summer or autumn, Sasori might not have spotted the man, but the white snow and lights from the church easily let him eye the figure of the person up there.

The redhead couldn't help but to wonder why someone would want to stand _there_ all alone at night. It was rather cold outside as well, something he had noticed when he had rolled down his window for some air a few minutes ago.

For a few moments, he actually considered finding a place to stop and go to check. However, his mind was suddenly changed as the light turned green, and he drove up onto the huge bridge.

Whatever had been going on up there, with the lonely man that had looked quite interesting to him, it most likely wasn't any of his business. After all, Sasori was new in this city; he didn't know anyone, so why would that blond want to talk to him? Better yet, why had he wanted to talk to the stranger?

As he looked up into the mirror that showed him the road behind him and the church (and _him_), he guessed it was because… the man had seemed broken.


	3. Chapter 2

The Best Things...

*Chapter 2*

Deidara guessed that things would get better soon.

He hadn't been crying lately (because he just hadn't let himself, even when the tears had threatened to fall), and he'd started working again. The blond was a painter in a small store just north for the centre of the city. Despite its 'smallness', they were quite popular with people and almost always had something to do. This was one of the reasons as to why he worked there. The second one was that painting was something he had always enjoyed and liked working with.

To be able to paint was a calming thought, even if he would just be colouring some walls or ceilings. His work -the smell, the sight- made him relax more than he usually did when he was doing other... relaxing things.

Relaxing.

That was actually what he was doing right now; he stood in the storage room and painted a wooden plate. It was going to be sent to a family in Kroken so they could see what it would be like in their own house -in one, or more of their rooms.

Personally, he thought it was a strange colour they had picked for the inside of the house. It was more of an 'outside colour', being ocher and all. This type was a golden-yellow, something he couldn't really see in his own room.

Suddenly he heard footsteps behind him and he turned his head slightly to see who was sneaking up back there.

Itachi.

The dark haired man was the only one (except for his mother and Tobi) who treated him normally (Deidara wasn't sure whether this was because his coworker just didn't like him like that, or because he actually knew how to make the blond feel better); as if nothing had happened. Deidara couldn't help but to appreciate this, because everyone else felt pity for him and showed it, and this reminded him of the fact that Kisame was gone.

This didn't mean that he was healing. No, not at all. Of course, he was telling everyone who asked that he was fine, but the emptiness in both himself and the apartment tore on him every day.

"You're still here?" his colleague asked. The dark haired male seemed to be slightly surprised.

"Yeah, I am." the blond replied as he turned back to the plate of wood and paint.

Deidara understood very well why the other asked, since it was Kisame's funeral today. It was amazing how he'd managed to get through so many days without his lover... no, he couldn't think like that. He suddenly felt mad, both at himself and Kisame. Of course he could go on living!

Going to that funeral, however... the truth was, even though a week had gone by, he hadn't really registered the information everyone else had managed to swallow. For him, it was still as if it was a bad, bad dream -a nightmare, and if he went to the funeral, he would be waking up and realize that it hadn't been a dream after all.

No wait, he would go to that funeral. There was no 'if' right now, not even if he would have to come out from his shell and cry again, and crying wasn't something he liked doing. To him it was a sign of weakness, no matter the situation.

"You're not going?" Itachi asked, obviously not giving up.

This was quite irritating, actually. Usually, the raven haired man wouldn't lift a finger to try, because they all knew that he would manage to do it without lifting said finger. Itachi also used to give up and just walk away if something seemed difficult, but not because he was a quitter -no, just because he didn't bother. Deidara hated this about the man -how he could act as if he was so much better than everyone else. The fact that the other was now trying to help him made that hate fade away just a little, and that wasn't good.

"I am."

"When?" he continued, "it starts in an hour."

The blond sighed and put the brush down into the bucket of yellow paint. There really was no way out, no way to have the man he loves back. How was he supposed to go on when he would be so alone without the other?

"I'm going, yeah." Deidara informed, but he didn't make a move. His body was betraying his mind; despite having been hurt a lot already, his body didn't want handle more of it.

He felt the presence behind him grow closer and he hurriedly moved away. The blond didn't want to be comforted right now; he didn't _need _pity even if today was the last day his beloved would be on the earth -the ground with him, especially not by Itachi.

Quickly leaving the storage room, Deidara let his long legs bring him to his locker, which he emptied for money, his cell phone and car keys. Then he slipped out of the building without telling anyone, not even his boss. This was most likely something he would be lectured for later on, since the man didn't want anyone sneaking away without telling him.

As he walked towards his parked car, he felt his eyes start to tingle uncomfortably as tears began to form. Shit, he hated to cry like this. If he was lucky -if he was completely relaxed, then maybe they wouldn't fall.

They did anyway.

In total embarrassment and slight panic (what if anyone _saw_?!), he half walked, half ran towards his car, a blue Ford with five seats.

Apparently... the truth and realization finally had been swallowed;

Kisame would never, _never_ return to him -not to him or to anyone else. He would never come back, and that meant that Deidara never would see a smile, never hear a laugh ever again.

For a second, he couldn't help but to wonder who the person was, and how terrible the man must be feeling. He had heard that the man had been imprisoned for "careless murder", as well as reading it in the news paper. The blond couldn't believe it.

Who would want to kill his boyfriend -kill anyone, in that horrible way?

Shit...

How was the man feeling after all of this? Guilt, shame... hate? Did anyone make him feel loved right now? Was anyone supposed to make him feel better? The blond wasn't sure if it was right of him to not blame the man for what happened, but he knew that he couldn't possibly meet him.

Getting into the car, Deidara bit his lower lip hard and almost forgot to let it go before his teeth pierced through the skin. He was quick to reach up and pull down the plate that usually was to protect him from the sun and push aside a small, moveable piece. Behind it was a mirror, and the blond male adjusted the plate so he could see his lower lip. It was as he'd thought; his teeth hadn't pierced through the skin. He had managed to make marks, and even though they were disappearing quickly, the lip was swelling.

Hopefully it wouldn't swell up all too much, or at least calm down before he went to the church.

* * *

Sasori lifted the hammer back behind his head and then brought it in front of himself in a hit, causing the nail to move further into the wall in his new apartment.

Because of the low rent, the redhead had been shocked when he had seen how fine the place actually was; he had walked through the front door and into a short hallway. It was rather old, where the walls were of wood and not painted, and the floor was gray and orange as well as black here and there. In the middle of the corridor was a refrigerator and down to his left was a small oven and a little shelf for his shoes. To his right was another door, and behind it was the laundry room. It was gray and depressing with a washing machine, shelves for different things and a vacuum cleaner inside.

Despite the bad first impression, he continued to the next door on his right and opened it, having left his bags and boxes by the door. The kitchen was reviled to him, and he had had to smile lightly. The room wasn't very big, but he had plates and an oven, as well as glasses, plates, bowls and other necessary equipment. On the other side of the corridor, right opposite of the kitchen was another door. Inside it was his bedroom. The colours inside were dull and kind of boring, but with the right things, he knew that it would look cozy and nice.

The bathroom was left for last; it was obvious that the owner recently had fixed the bathroom, since it shined and smelled so new whenever he was in there. It was his favourite room in the whole apartment, but only because he hadn't bought himself a proper bed yet; there was one in his room, but it wasn't _his_.

At the moment, he was personalizing his room, hanging up pictures and putting his things all over the place. Sasori was beginning to feel more and more at home for each minute, and soon he would be done. He had just finished hitting the last nail into the wall and had now put the last picture up. The redhead didn't hang up any portraits, but painted works with great meanings. The pictures of his family were placed on his nightstand table as well as on some shelves.

Since he almost was finished with unpacking and such, Sasori had begun to think about other things he could do afterwards –such as exploring the area, the bus routes and where he could use his snowboard. After driving all the way to this city, he knew that there were few places to use his board, at least on the island. Hopefully there would be something on the islands and land around this one. Kvaløya maybe had some sort of slope, since there usually was a lot more snow there than anywhere else.

The redhead hopped down from the bed that had been there from before (which he would change out with a new one as soon as he had the money to; it was old and made sounds even though he only shifted slightly. Along with this, it was rather ugly) and took a good look around the room, which was formed as a square, or maybe it was more like a rectangle. From where he stood by one of the longest walls, on the opposite side of the door and the corridor behind it, it all looked good and 'homey'. The TV stood to his right in the other corner. Between the television and the door stood a commode with books on and some decoration from his grandmother's house; Sasori had wanted to bring with him some things that he had grown up with and would remind him of his beloved grandmother and his parents.

Turning towards the white, three-door closet –which stood proudly right beside the door, covering the short wall completely-, the redhead moved over to it and opened the door in the middle. Inside there were couple of jackets and hats and gloves along with his snowboard pants, his favourite pair among them. Reaching into the dark, he pulled a thin dark blue jacket out of the closet. On the left side of the hood was a white design of a flying eagle.

He often used this jacket when he was snowboarding because it was so light and comfortable to wear. It didn't make any weird sounds either, not like his quilted jacket that tended to make a sound like he let out a fart or something of the sorts whenever it was stretched a little too much.

Pulling the jacket on, Sasori found a pair of gloves and put them on before he grabbed his keys and his phone. Within another minute, he was outside and walking away from his apartment, leaving a locked door behind him.

The redhead didn't have a lot of money at the moment, but he did have enough to buy himself wireless internet and some food for the next couple of days. These two things were the most important to him.

Now…

Where was the bus stop?

It took Sasori about half an hour to get to the centre of the town with the bus –only because the bus had already gone by his stop by the time he got there, and he had to wait twenty minutes before the next one arrived. If he'd taken his car, he probably would have been shopping for food already, but it was expensive to own a car, especially in a city like this. However, was it worth paying two hundred a month to take the bus, or would it be cheaper to use his car?

He would have to dwell on that for a bit, while he looked over the cheapest kind of wireless internet.

His brown eyes scanned the shelves for the right kind, looking over Telenor, Netcom and Tele2 Champion. Those three most likely were the best, but he wasn't sure which one to pick. His cell phone was subscribed to Telenor Superpluss, if he remembered correctly, and there was nothing negative about it.

"Do you need any help?" a voice suddenly asked him, and Sasori turned to see who it was. The man wasn't recognizable, not to him at least, but it was obvious that he worked in this store (Expert).

"Yes, actually… I was looking for a good wireless internet, but I'm not sure which one to pick." the redhead replied, looking back to the packages on the shelves. Surely this man would know which one was the best and the cheapest.

"Well, it depends on what you'll be using it for…"

"Mostly just to check news and probably some games and movies." Sasori told the man, frowning slightly. He hadn't known that this would matter at all, but now that he thought about it, he would need a fast and good-running internet to be able to play flash games or watch movies.

Looking back over at the man, whom he now realized was dressed in an orange sweatshirt with Expert's logo on the right side of the chest. The worker's name seemed to be Charles, as it said on his nametag.

"Then I'd recommend this one," Charles said as he reached up on the shelf and pulled down one of the packages. Telenor it was then.

"Alright, thank you. I'll take it."

* * *

The church wasn't as warm as it usually was. No, today - on this terrible gray day- it was cold as ice, so Deidara couldn't help but to shudder as he walked inside. He could feel all eyes fall on him as he walked inside. Their stares gave him quite an uncomfortable feeling, but he forced himself to brush it off and instead focus on what was important; Kisame and his family. Turning again, the blond held the church door open for his dead boyfriend's parents and younger brother.

They all looked heartbroken, and he couldn't blame them, as he was sure he felt and looked much like them; red, puffy eyes along with a pale face and a reluctant attitude towards being there.

As he turned back around to find them some empty seats, he couldn't help but to notice that pretty much everyone in the room turned from where they stood and to the front. Apparently, they realized how bad they made them feel by staring like that. Deidara's blue eyes met with his friends. He didn't like having them looking either, but he knew that he couldn't exactly tell them to look away from him. They were just showing him their pity and that they were there for him.

Finally finding some seats in the front, where he guessed he should be sitting along with Kisame's family, the blond led them all over to the bench. He sat down himself and folded his hands together in his lap. Waiting for this to begin was probably the worst thing that had ever happened to him. Usually, deaths would happen and then be over with when it came to him; Deidara was quick to get over things, because it happened all the time. This time, however...

Things didn't seem to become any easier for him, no matter how much time went by. After all, it wasn't before today that he actually let the reality wash over him. If he had let himself believe that Kisame was gone the moment it happened, then maybe he would have been able to at least feel a little bit better now.

Deidara closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh. He didn't draw another breath, and let a burning feeling slowly fill his lungs instead of air. This would help him focus a bit more, he was quite sure of that. How long it would keep him calm, however, he did not know. The blond kept from breathing until he bet his face had turned purple and felt like it was about to explode. When he finally let air fill his lungs again, the two balloons ached in pain, but also in sweet relief –so did every cell in his body. He was happy to tell that he felt a lot better now, but guilt was a part of it all; it wasn't fair of him to feel free when everyone else around him were so crushed.

An elbow in his side made him open his eyes again, and he realized that the priest had arrived. It was the same woman from the memorial, but he couldn't bring himself to remember her name. What was it again? Helen? No… the blond didn't believe that was correct, but he was sure that it was something very close to that.

"Welcome back to this church –today to say goodbye to a beloved son, a great friend and a super boyfriend." The old woman said.

Deidara stood right up and down and stared down into the hole in the ground, where Kisame's body lay in a chest. He couldn't see the man, as the lid was long closed, but he had seen it in the chest earlier, so it was rather easy for him to imagine it all; the blue haired man's body dressed in a black tuxedo with a white undershirt and a red tie. This had all been nice and neat. When he imagined his dead boyfriend's face, however, he couldn't see the usually creamy skin. By now, the skin had become blue and cold. There obviously was no blood running through Kisame's veins anymore. It was also quite incredible that the body was as whole as it had been before the accident; from what the blond had heard, there had been a lot of fractured and broken bones.

As he stood there, just staring at the chest with big eyes, he listened to the words spoken by the priest. She was rambling on about how Kisame was in a better place now. However, Deidara couldn't believe such a thing. How could his boyfriend –his lover be in a better place when they had had it so perfectly fine together? The blond couldn't possibly believe that there was a place better than next to himself. This may be selfish, but he knew that he was right about it!

People began to leave the place as a huge machine began to close the open grave. He didn't move an inch however, not even after the workers were finished and there was no one left but him; he continued to stare at the grave with slightly wide eyes. The blond would never see his lover again. They would never lay in the same bed, never go snowboarding, shopping, eat breakfast and all the things they used to ever again.

He frowned lightly and bit his lower lip as he tried to stop the tears from falling once again. When it didn't work, he covered his eyes with his left hand and pressed it up against his eyes and forehead to keep anyone from seeing. It didn't matter that no one was around to notice; he just didn't want to see himself crying – nor did he want Kisame to see him cry.

"God, yeah... that sounded so stupid." he muttered, scolding himself for even thinking that his dead lover could see him. He couldn't – Kisame could never see him again.

Deidara crouched down and then let his knees hit the grassy ground so he wouldn't end up losing his balance. He reached would with the hand that had covered his face seconds ago and captured a fistful of the sand now filling up the grave.

The blond held his palm upwards and opened his fist. He watched as the sand grains fell from between his fingers and back down to the ground. There would soon be grass covering the sand, and when that time came, it would be much easier for him to grow flowers on the grave then.

"Please protect me, yeah."

* * *

Sasori slipped the socket into the outlet and smiled triumphantly as the small, dark gray box nest to him made a sound and four small lights began to glow. All of the lights were green, signalizing that he just had to connect his laptop to the wireless internet and then use it.

Piece of cake.

He stood up and took a quick look around, frowning for each second that passed by. Where had he placed his computer?

"Shit." the redhead cursed, crouching down and looking under the table, where there was an extra plate. He had been very glad to see it there, since he would have some place to put away things that were in his way on the table. It could also be a good place to rest his feet. Unfortunately, there was nothing under there at the moment, so he straightened up and checked the window sill, which was quite wide; he could even sit on it if he wanted.

Moving from the windows (he had three of them on a row), Sasori knelt down in front of one of his bags and began to push the clothes aside. He didn't find anything in the first bag, but after he had searched through the second one, he found the laptop.

The redhead walked over to his bed (yes, his bed. He hadn't been able to wait and bought a cheap, but nice one. Those who worked there drove him and the bed home for free), and sat down on it. He opened the laptop and pressed the button that lay in the upper, right corner. His laptop was of the sort Lenovo, one of the best brands there was. Of course, Macbook was still a lot better, but Lenovo certainly was much better than Hp, Asus and Azer.

The machine only took a minute or two to start up. Sasori slid his thump over a scanner and unlocked the laptop. It then used a few seconds to ready everything. Once it was finished with this, he easily connected it to the secured wireless internet.

As he double clicked on Mozilla Firefox, his phone suddenly began ringing. Sony Ericsson's ringtone filled the room. It was simple and light, and almost everyone used it.

"Hello?" he asked as he picked up, not having bothered looking at the number for once. Not that he needed to; Hidan was pretty much the only one that called him.

"Hey, fucker!"

"What did you want?" the redhead asked, opening a new tab in Firefox and entering Facebook.

It was silent for a few seconds, and Sasori wondered if he had managed to anger one of his best friends. After all, his reply was kind of cold -but then again, he always said that when he was on the phone.

He just was that kind of person; straight to the point and blunt when he wasn't interested, which could be quite often. At the moment, he was busy with his Facebook and had little time for small chit-chat with Hidan, especially since the younger teen could be very talkative.

"Oh shut up," the other replied, obviously a bit grumpy, "I just wanted to call and hear whether you've settled in or not."

"I have."

"Great..."

"Yeah."

* * *

**I think... I believe that Sasori and Deidara will meet in the next chapter. **

**A thing that is irritating, is that seven pages in office seems so... short here.  
**


	4. Chapter 3

The Best Things...

*Chapter 3*

After three days in a new city, Sasori had managed to figure out where Tromsø's slope was. Unfortunately, he had used a whole day to search to find a slope on Kvaløya before even considering to take a look at the other side of the island –in Tromsdalen and Kroken. This was where he had found the damn slope as well, not too far away from the bridge he had drove across when he first arrived.

The redhead got out of his car and moved to the backseat. He opened the backdoor and pulled his snowboard, a helmet and a pair of goggles out before he closed the door. Pressing a button on the car key, the doors locked themselves and he slipped the key into his pants, zipping it shut so he wouldn't lose them.

He looked up and smirked softly. The slope wasn't just a slope, but three different ones. The one on the right started halfway up on the mountain and ended just a couple of hundred meters away from him. The one in the middle seemed to be the longest one; it started on the top and almost went straight down, with maybe one or two weak turns. The last one, the one to the left, was hidden from his sight. Sasori could see the top and the end of it, but as far as he could see, he was pretty sure that it went down into the forest. He would have to try that one first, as it seemed it would hold a few more challenges because of trees and such –at least he hoped it would.

Sasori began to walk towards the ski lift, which was in the middle of the shortest and longest slope. It seemed to be the kind of lift where you had to wear your board or skis and hold on to the handle that was being pulled up towards the top. He had never even tried a ski lift before, so he was feeling quite anxious as he came closer and closer to the thing. They didn't have any lifts where he came from, because there wasn't enough money for it, and it was a quite small slope –all of them, even if they got bigger and bigger. The redhead and his friends always used to walk to the top.

As he got close to it, he watched as another boy got his skis on and then grabbed one of the incoming handles, which dragged him towards the top. He sighed and moved closer to the lift. Once he deemed himself close enough, he let his board down and fastened one of his feet to it. He merely placed the other one on the bindings. He could fasten it later.

His heart hammered in his chest as he eyed a handle coming towards him. As it came close enough, he reached for it with both hands and felt himself be pulled up. It was sheer luck that he didn't lose his balance and fall into the snow under his feet.

The top of the mountain came too quickly to him; he had started to enjoy the ride up. Just before the handle turned and headed back down, Sasori let go of it and began to kick his way towards the third slope, the one all the way to the left. Well, at least it had been left when he had been standing on the bottom; it was to the right now, if he faced the bottom.

Once he got to the edge, he crouched down and fastened the last bindings, so both of his feet were stuck to the board. It was a long way down to the bottom from here, and he could see a turn further down as well. There also were a couple of small jumps and hindrances, such as trees and hidden rocks.

He was sure that he would be disappointed in the end, but only because it would be over too quickly for his liking; the rides always were. Sasori cocked his head and lifted his helmet onto his head, fastening it before he placed the goggles over it to cover his eyes. Then he adjusted the scarf he had around his neck so the wind wouldn't manage dry his skin out.

"Hey, kid!"

The redhead turned his head and blinked lazily as his eyes fell upon three figures coming towards him. He immediately recognized the one to the right, and his heart skipped a beat.

The man's face was slightly pale, but it was obvious that this wasn't the original skin colour; it looked more sickly pale than his own skin, which was slightly pale. The long blonde hair looked just like it had the night he had arrived, and the man was quite tall. He had a snowboard as well, Sasori realized.

They had something in common!

* * *

Deidara looked from Tobi and over to the child that his stupid friend had called for. He realized that the kid was staring right at him and frowned. Why the hell was he so interesting? Sure, he knew he didn't look as good as he usually did because of little sleep and a lot of crying, but did he have to stare like that? It made him feel uncomfortable.

When it seemed that the obviously youngest of them all seemed to notice that he was being glared at for staring, he immediately shifted his gaze to Tobi. The blond did the same, actually a little curious as to why his dark haired friend had stopped the child from sliding down the slope.

"Kid, Tobi thinks that you should go further down –to the kiddy slope."

Oh Christ.

The blond rolled his eyes and let out a soft sigh as he looked back over at the kid, who couldn't really be _that_ much younger than them –or? As far as he could see, the boy couldn't be much taller than Kisame's baby brother, who was 159 centimeters. That was quite short for anyone older than fifteen, especially if they were male.

Because this kid was a guy… right?

It was a little bit hard to see through the helmet, goggles and loose clothes, but Deidara was certain that it was a boy.

What he wasn't certain of, however, was why he was in Kroken at the moment. He didn't live very far away from the slopes, but he would much rather be home than being here. However, neither Tobi or Pein had taken no for an answer.

Both of his friends (as well as everyone else he knew) thought that it would only be good for him to get out and do things to keep his mind from wandering. Deidara guessed that they were right –no, he knew that they were, but he just didn't want to; he wanted to sit home alone and ponder over the changes and the loss of his boyfriend.

Besides, he didn't think that it would make him feel any better; it hadn't yet, at least.

"Geez, how mature." the boy muttered, probably rolling his eyes behind those goggles of his, "I'm nineteen. Surely that makes me old enough to ride this slope."

Deidara nodded slightly, not only because the kid –no, teen was right, but also because it confirmed his thoughts; he hadn't been that much younger after all. The blond was only twenty two, which separated them with only three years. Not much at all.

"Oh, Tobi is sorry!" Tobi said, but although he was apologizing, it didn't sound much like it.

"Tobi just thought you were ten since you're so short!"

The teenager didn't say anything, and an empty silence filled the air around them. It was obvious that the boy had been insulted by the apology.

Normally, Deidara would solve these kinds of things immediately, but he just wasn't in the mood to do such now. Besides, after being forced out of his own apartment a Saturday morning, he wasn't too keen on helping his dark haired friend. The boy must have thought something alike to what he was, because after a few seconds, he turned away from them and jumped to the tip of the edge and let his weight onto the front of the board, something that sent him down into the slope.

Tobi was the first one to move towards the edge. The blond followed after his friend and looked down as the nineteen year old child rode down the slope without any problem at all. It was amazing how the boy moved; avoiding trees and making small jumps and tricks when he had the possibility to. As far as he could see, the kid had been practicing for years.

Although he was sure that he was better, but for all he knew, it could only be his winner instinct telling him so. He was certain of this the moment the kid took a chance on one of the bigger jumps and made a back flip in the air before landing.

Oh yes, definitely amazing – like a prince.

Just like Kisame…

Gritting his teeth, Deidara huffed and fastened the bindings to his feet before following the teenager down to slope. He felt so angry at himself for managing even think that the child was just as good as his boyfriend had been.

How could he have thought that someone so _young_ could replace Kisame in this slope?

It definitely could never happen! No one was as good as Kisame had been –no one would manage to beat all of those records; fastest to the bottom, highest jump, most difficult trick and a lot more were all under one name; Kisame.

It would remain that way. Always.

* * *

Sasori reached the bottom after a couple of minutes. Despite having been insulted like that on the top of the slope, he had enjoyed the trip down there so much that everything had been forgotten. Even the blond had.

Now the male was back in his thoughts, however, and he couldn't stop thinking about him. The broken male he had seen outside of the church before he had arrived into the city he now was living in. It had been quite obvious that he still was suffering; the sickly pale skin, the puffy red eyes and tired expression. The redhead really couldn't help but to wonder what had happened and why he was so sad. Someone close must have died, or maybe the man was just having a tough time.

To be honest, he hadn't thought that he would ever see the blond male again, but luck seemed to be on his side for once. He really hoped that he could be helpful, be there… become friends with the man. So far, that chance was rather small, since he had been caught staring and just left like that. Realizing this, Sasori couldn't help but to regret suddenly leaving. If he hadn't, then maybe he could have talked some more with the trio and gotten to know them a little bit better.

For a second or so, he wanted to take the lift right back up to the top and talk to them. That, however, would be so stupid and embarrassing that he wasn't sure if he would be able to forget it. Besides, what were the chances of finding the men up there? They had most likely left already.

Giving a soft sigh, the redhead removed the helmet and lay it down next to himself as he reached down and undid the bindings holding him to his board. He stepped off it and picked it up along with his helmet and goggles.

As he began to walk towards his car, he wondered if he would see the blond again and what he should make for dinner…

* * *

The blond moved out from the storage room and into the store itself, carrying a big bucket of ocher paint. The family in Kroken had decided that they wanted the pain after having received the wooden plate. They had liked it and wanted in on one of the walls in their youngest child's room. He still thought it was a hideous colour to have inside the house- on a child's room on top of that, but he couldn't really say anything about it.

The father in the family, Bjørn, was standing by the cash desk and waited for him. As Deidara approached, the man sent him a smile, and he returned it slightly. It would be bad service if he had just ignored it, and one of the Paint's (which was the name of the store) rules were to always be polite.

"This is the paint you wanted, yeah." Deidara informed as he got up to the counter and placed the bucket next to the cash desk.

"Thank you," the man replied, still smiling politely at him.

"That's no problem at all."

He began to register the bucket of paint into the cash desk, pressing a green button and then scanning it before he pressed a big red button.

"Cash or card, yeah?" the blond asked, lifting his eyes from the cashier's stand and up at Bjørn as he waited for an answer. As he did this, he noticed a redheaded teenager open the door and walk inside the shop. He let his blue eyes linger on the boy for a few seconds, and that was all it took for him to recognize the pale skin and body. At least he thought he recognized it.

Once his customer had decided to pay with card, he let his eyes move back to the cash desk and pressed a gray button. This activated the card machine.

Bjørn paid, took his bucket and left the store, leaving him pretty much all alone with the teenager who he could see standing by the paint shelves. The teen would probably need some help. After all, Deidara was the expert here, not the redhead. He had an education for these kinds of things, so even if the teen picked out a colour all by himself, it was the blond who would have to mix that colour and sell it to him.

He hummed softly before he moved out from behind the counter and towards the shelves where the child stood. Now, he probably couldn't call the child a child, but it was stuck after the first time they met.

"Hey, can I help you with anything?" the blond asked, putting up a small smile as the redhead turned to look at him.

Deidara almost felt a little bit annoyed when he saw shock on the boy's face. It was obvious that he hadn't been expecting to see him here, but really… what was it with him? The child just stared and stared at him whenever they met (even if they had only met twice now), and it was kind of creepy.

"No, not really."

"Alright, yeah." he said, slightly disappointed all of a sudden. It was weird how he for one moment thought that the redhead was annoying because of all the staring, and then he was disappointed when he couldn't be around to be stared at.

It was probably those wide brown eyes that did it; the boy's eyes were wide, but heavy lidded, which fit him very well actually. The brown irises went well along with the hair and the pale skin too. The child certainly looked younger than he was.

As Deidara turned around, he was pretty sure that he heard a small sound of protest coming from the shorter boy, but he didn't turn back around. This wasn't certain, and he didn't want to make a fool out of himself- no wait, it wouldn't make him seem foolish, and he hadn't really been caring much about doing stupid things lately. Not since Kisame died anyways.

Shit…

He had to stop thinking about that now. Almost two weeks had passed since the accident had occurred, but he still wasn't over it. Why was he feeling so empty all the time? His grandmother had died three years ago, and he had moved on quite quickly and learned how to cope with that. It had been the same with his father, even if the sorrow had lasted for a bit longer than a month or two.

Suddenly a hand brushed against his arm and he jumped slightly before he turned around to meet the redhead.

What the hell?

Hadn't he been told that he wasn't needed?

"I need help." the child admitted, averting his eyes from Deidara as if he was ashamed. It made him wonder whether the boy really was nineteen.

"Okay, what do you need help with?" the blond asked, lifting his left eyebrow.

"I want to paint my kitchen in this gray and white colour, but I need you to mix it for me."

The reply just put more fire on the annoyance he had felt earlier. How come the boy told him no at first? It didn't really make sense at all. The blond had met a lot of weird people in his life, but this redhead surely was the weirdest!

"Really now... then I guess you need someone to paint the room for you as well, yeah." Deidara didn't quite understand it; how a simple question ("do you need anyone to help you paint the room as well?") could become such a mean statement. It attacked the redhead in many ways, first for his shortness, and then for the fact that he had changed his mind.

"I do. I won't reach the parts of the walls closest to the ceiling." the boy said, apparently not caring that he had been a bit rude.

Maybe the redhead wasn't all that weird –that he wasn't at fault at all, but him, who had a bad day and just couldn't tolerate it anymore. Being stared at also meant being pitied, at least in his eyes.

"Alright, yeah."

* * *

Sasori wasn't sure how to explain the current situation. However, one thing was for sure, and that was that he was feeling rather embarrassed at the moment.

He had never thought that he would meet the blond here, in this store. It had been a pleasant surprise until he had managed to fuck it all up. The other male obviously found him somewhat annoying, as it was quite evident on his face. Why, the redhead did not know, but he could make wild guesses: one, they kept on bumping into each other (even if this only was the second time); two, Sasori couldn't seem to stop eyeing the man; three, he had stupidly decided that he didn't need any help, and then gone and changed his mind –probably bothering the blond.

As he waited for the change for what he'd paid, he wrote down his address on a small piece of paper as well as his name. The redhead figured that it would be wise to have it there, in case it would be hard to find the house; it had been for him.

Driving around on those small roads, desperately trying to find out where he was supposed to live, had made him so mad and angry that he could probably have killed someone without really thinking about it. Not that he was a violent person or that he ever could kill anyone, but it sure had felt like it back then.

Once he received his money, Sasori smiled gently at the blond and thanked the man before he picked up both buckets of paint and headed for the door. Before he moved out of hearing range, he heard the man tell him it was no problem.

Sasori put the buckets down on the floor to his left, next to the door. The blond would be arriving here Monday morning, which suited him well. He would be around to let the man in, and then he would have to leave to get that job of his. That would most likely just take a short while, since he already had it, but just needed to introduce himself and learn their routines. He would probably be back before the man had left.

Maybe he could stop by a food store, for example Ica, and buy a waffle mix, sour cream and strawberry jam. That way, the broken male could stay for a little longer, and they could get to know each other, but only if the man wanted to.

The redhead walked into his tidy room and pulled off his outer jacket, which he then let fall down on the floor between the door and the closet. Being a tidy person was nice, because then he could just put things down on the floor, very well aware of the fact that he would clean it all up before he went to bed.

It had always been like that when it came to him. His grandmother had been a tidy person as well, and since she had raised him and been with him even more than his parents had, he had naturally taken after her. However, before the redhead really had moved in with the old lady, he had been quite the messy person –easily leaving things for other's to pick and clean up after him.

Sasori remembered one episode, where his parents had hired a babysitter instead of calling his grandmother over. The girl had been a lot older than him, obviously. He was probably around four or five at that time, and she could have been sixteen or seventeen.

Despite this huge age difference, the redhead had been quite fond of the girl. He had liked her –however, not in a way that would have him act all nice and happy. No, instead, he had acted like a spoiled child and thrown a tantrum.

The girl didn't want to ever see him again.

When he'd grown older, Chiyo told him that he had been quite the devil when he'd been younger. For obvious reasons, this had been rather hard to believe.

He sighed softly and ran a hair through his untidy, but still very soft hair. The red straws lived a life of their own a lot of times, or so it looked and felt; no matter how much he tried to style it, his hair just didn't want to be the way he wanted it. Fortunately, most of the time he wanted it to be the way it naturally fell; it was just some certain days that he felt he needed a change.

Sasori sat down on his bed and looked around his room, eyeing every single thing in it. It would be time for him to make dinner soon –he could feel it in his stomach, and it was late afternoon already. The redhead wasn't really sure what he wanted to eat, maybe spaghetti? No. It wasn't that he didn't want it, but he didn't have it. The only food he had at the moment was tomato soup and pancakes, and some bread.

Surely that would last until he began to work and got his first pay. Yes, there's was no doubt about it; this would be no problem at all. He would manage through with the little food he had and then, once his salary came, he would buy some nice cutlets, a package with rice, vegetables and sauce. It had to be béarnaise sauce, of course. Simply the best.

The redhead hummed softly from his spot on his bed. The thought of such great food really just made him hungry. He would have to make the pancakes today; the soup just wouldn't do, and he knew it. Sure, Sasori would most likely end up full, but not before he'd eaten all of the red liquid. Also, after about an hour, he would probably feel hungry again, because soup never kept him satisfied for very long.

Getting back up on his feet, the teenager slipped out of his room and into the small kitchen. It was a little too small for his tastes, but he couldn't complain, since he got to rent the place for such little money.

Sasori opened one of the cabinets and scanned the shelves behind the door. On the first one lay all kinds of things; flour, sugar, spices (such as cinnamon and mixed spices and salt), chocolate, chips and a lot more. They were the things he used the most. The second one was almost empty, save for a single package. On it, he could easily read the red letters that spelled the word "pancakes".

He quickly found a frying pan and a spatula, as well as some butter and a bowl to mix the pancake dough in.

* * *

"You sure, yeah?" the blond asked, one of his light eyebrows lifting itself up in slight shock. It wasn't like Itachi to suggest something so… so nice.

"Yes I am," the older man said, nodding a bit, "just go home and relax."

Deidara just couldn't help being anything but skeptical. This was too out of character for the dark haired man. He would have understood it had it been Tobi or Pein telling him to go home, but Itachi? No way in hell. The man just didn't do nice things for him. Or… at least he usually didn't.

Oh yeah. Itachi had been quite a good friend of Kisame, hadn't he? This certainly could be a way to make sure the blue haired male would be pleased in his grave.

"Alright. Thanks." with that, the blond turned around, leaving his work behind, and began to walk to the lockers, where he had his belongings that couldn't come with him while he worked.

It was still quite early, so he wondered what he was supposed to do today. Being all alone definitely sucked, so going to his mother's would probably be a good idea. She could cook for him, and they could have a nice time together, something they hadn't had for a while now.


	5. Chapter 4

The Best Things…

*Chapter 4*

A soft knock sounded on his door around early noon the next day, and Sasori went from the table in front of his bed and into the corridor where the front door was. He had been eating his tomato soup quite peacefully, not really expecting anyone to come by. Now that he thought about it, however, he realized that it had to be _him_.

Who else could it possibly be? The redhead hadn't told anyone else about where he lived except for the blond.

Sasori moved over to the door rather quickly. He felt his heart beat fast under his ribcage as he reached for the handle to open the door. The muscle immediately quieted down when he had opened to see that it wasn't the blond at all, but a short, dark haired man with bags under his eyes. The redhead had never even seen this man before, so what was he doing here? Could it be the son of the old woman that had bothered to rent him the apartment? No, surely not. This man was too young to be an eighty year old's son.

He had to continue to stare at the man in front of him, who was almost as short as himself -obviously shorter than the blond. Both of them had long hair, however, this man's was raven black. Surely it couldn't be the man's natural hair colour. But then again, it might just be. After all, he had a rather... unusual hair colour himself.

The man in front of him was much paler than Sasori was, which was slightly odd, actually. Because he had grown up in a town up north, he hadn't had much sun, but he knew for a fact that it could be quite sunny in Tromsø.

Could it be that the dark haired one was some kind of gamer?

With that, he obviously was referring to the teenagers (younger than himself, of course) who sat all night and all day in front of the computer, playing video games.

Now, Sasori should probably not judge so quickly. Some people were just plain weird, or they just were born... well, white.

"Can I help you?" he finally decided to ask, once he'd finished letting his eyes sweep across the man's clothing. It was casual, but there was a suitcase hanging down from his visitor's left hand.

"I'm here to paint your kitchen." the man stated with little enthusiasm (which Sasori took as an insult, for reasons that he was unable to explain), and then held his right hand out for a handshake, "Itachi Uchiha."

The redhead stared down from this Itachi's face and to the man's hand before he slowly reached out and shook it.

What he didn't quite understand with all of this, was why this man was here, and not the blond, whom was originally hired for this job. Well, at least Sasori thought he had hired _him_. Maybe they just gave their assignments to other people in that shop; Paint, or whatever the name had been.

"Obviously, this has to be a mistake," he began, raising one of his lovely red eyebrows, "I didn't hire you."

"I don't really care. Where's your kitchen?" Itachi asked, sounding a bit annoyed, a feeling which was very mutual at the moment.

The man was here to work for him right now; Sasori had hired the man, so why the hell was he being so god damn rude about it? If only that blond man had come instead, things would have gone so much better.

Giving up, he sighed and turned around, pointing to the second door on the right side of the corridor. The redhead had already moved everything out of the way inside the kitchen, so all Itachi had to do was to start painting. The room wasn't big either, so it would hopefully be finished quickly.

"Make sure to close the door behind you. I don't want the disgusting smell all over the place." he said coldly before walking back into his room and shutting the door behind him.

* * *

Deidara couldn't really help but to wonder how Sasori would manage to handle Itachi. When he, who had been working with the annoying man for three years couldn't stay calm around him, how would the young boy even manage?

For a second or two, the blond actually felt a little bit guilty for skipping his work and sending the raven haired man to the teen. However, the feeling quickly passed as his mother placed a plate with beef in front of him. Besides... if Itachi didn't finish today, then he would be going there next time.

He smiled at his mother, and she returned the smile before she went to get her own plate. It was a while since he had been eating dinner with his mother, so this would most likely turn out to be a very nice night.

And a nice night it was. The beef had been perfectly cooked; he hadn't had such a great meal since his lover had passed away. Kisame had been such a great cook, while he couldn't even boil water. This fact didn't help him much, and was why some already had commented on how he had become thinner these past days. It actually annoyed him to his bones knowing that he just wasn't able to get over the grief enough to even take care of himself.

Deidara couldn't remember the last time he had sat down to make sure his hair was in perfect condition. Now the blond man only took a quick glance, swept some of his hair into a ponytail and went out the door without a second look.

With a small smile, he wished his mother a good night and walked out of the house that had been his home for eighteen years. He could easily remember the years there because he had never really lived a hard life. His mother and father had rules, some that he hadn't liked when he was younger, but there had been so many good things happening between them. Well, there had been anyways; once his father died it kind of went downwards. His mother had been grieving for a long time, and he was quite sure that she wasn't completely over her husband's death. The thought of that made him once again wonder if he ever would be able to leave Kisame behind and move on.

He knew that his mother had been trying to see other men at least two or three times, but it had never worked out. Deidara guessed that she just couldn't get the man out of her head -that he kept on appearing even if she didn't want him to.

Sighing, the blond climbed into his car and pressed the clutch down with his left foot. When he turned the key, the engine came to life and the garage door in front of him was lit up as the lights from his car came on as well. Just as he drove out onto the main road, his cell phone began to vibrate in his sweat pants' right pocket. Letting go of the wheel with one of his hands, he reached into the pocket and found his phone.

Deidara didn't bother to see who it was and pressed the green button, just ready to get this phone call over with. Speaking in the phone wasn't something he enjoyed doing. He would much rather have people send him text messages, even if it was more dangerous to text while he drove than talk on the phone. Unfortunately, people that he didn't know very well didn't know this, and decided that it would be much quicker to call him. This was completely wrong, of course. The blond always had his phone with him, especially after the car accident that killed his boyfriend, but he did tend to ignore phone calls from time to time. Texting, however, was something he gladly would do.

"Hello, yeah." he greeted, his voice as dull as it could get.

"Deidara, hey! What are you doing?" a strangely familiar voice asked him, oblivious to the irritated tone he'd used when he had answered. It took him a few seconds to recognize the voice, but when he did, it was also easy to understand why his unfriendliness had been completely ignored by the man on the other end.

"Oh, um. I'm on my way home from my mom's." Deidara replied as he took the first road to the left in a roundabout. His mother lived on Kvaløya, while he was much closer to the city, near the Nrk1 Radio Station and the city's museum.

"What about you, yeah? I haven't heard from my little cousin in a while."

His friend chuckled on the other end, probably shaking his head this very moment.

"I was thinking of coming for a fu- visit," his cousin said, and then gave a cough. The teenager knew that Deidara hated it when he cursed, so he usually tried to keep from it. This fact pleased the blond thoroughly.

"Really now... what are you going to do here?"

Like he had said earlier, it was a while since he'd last talked with his younger cousin, let alone seen him. They lived in different states, and neither of their families had the time to take a weekend visiting each other. Sometimes, this fact was highly annoying, but other times, thinking about his irritable aunt, it was completely fine. Hopefully his cousin would come alone.

"My best friend just moved there about a month ago, I think. I don't really remember, but you get the drill. I haven't heard much from him, so I want to meet him. Also, it'll give me a good chance to meet my family again."

"When do you get here, yeah?"

"In one fucking hour."

* * *

Sasori woke up the next morning, quite ready to go to work (because he was supposed to begin today), only to remember the dreadful phone call he had received last night.

He had been quite surprised when his phone suddenly went off and began to play the beautiful intro of the song _Breakeven_ by The Script. The song had been his favourite for a while now. It didn't matter that it was a 'girly-song', as Hidan would put it, because Hidan only liked Rap and Hip hop; his opinion didn't matter. Besides... his grandmother had really liked the song as well.

The redhead had reached for the phone and picked up the call just before the lead singer began to sing. He had heard a male voice on the other end, asking if he was Sasori. Knowing that was him, he could only say yes.

And then it had happened.

The man told him that they didn't need him to work for their company anyways, and that he should start searching for something else to do right away.

Sasori felt the anger blossom in him once again, as he thought of the call. If they had called a little earlier, maybe a week ahead, and not just a single day before he was supposed to start working, then maybe it would have been alright. They didn't, and it was killing him.

Why would they reject him one day before the day and even _after_ they had told him that they would love to have him there.

He got out a bed with a rainy cloud hanging over his head, and walked across the room to turn on the light. Once it was on, he let his brown eyes wander over the room, taking in the sight. It was still as clean as when he had finished unpacking. The redhead had always been a neat freak, ever since his grandmother had told him she would buy him ice cream once a week if he managed to keep his room neat and tidy. He guessed it was just an old habit now, both because he wouldn't get ice cream from his dead grandmother anymore, and because it was hard to get rid of the habit. Sasori liked it when it was clean. It made him feel at ease and he wouldn't have to run around to look for his missing things when he had bad time.

With a last look, he opened the door right behind him and left the room, leaving the door open. However, half way on his way to the bathroom, he picked up on a strange scent. Well, maybe it wasn't exactly strange, but it was strong. As the redhead turned around to look back, he realized that the painter that had been painting his kitchen had left without closing the door. The smell from the newly painted room was coming out into the rest of the apartment.

Jesus Christ.

Sasori took long and angry strides towards the kitchen door. When he reached it, he slammed it shut before he headed back towards the bathroom, slamming that door behind him as well. He had clearly told the man that he would have to shut the door, so why hadn't he listened?

For a second, the redhead felt like going back to Paint and complain. Fortunately, he managed to calm himself and decide that doing such a thing would be stupid. He could see the look on that blond's face, see the way the man would look at him as if he was an idiot -which he would be if he went down there and yell. And if something was for sure, he didn't want that blond to think of him weirdly.

He turned on the water in his big shower and while the water got warm, he pulled off his underwear, a pair of black boxers.

Now that he didn't have a job -the thought made him feel so down about himself too- he didn't know what to do about his day, other than trying to find a new job of course. But where? Where could he possibly find something for his liking? Sasori had really wanted the job, and he got it before it slipped right through his fingers.

"God damn it."

Sasori used about half an hour in the shower. Usually, he didn't take that long to wash his hair and body, but he had used a lot of time just standing under the warm water today. The steam and feel of running water clashing against his skin cleared his head in ways he couldn't describe. The shower was also his angel when he needed a break from an illness he may have caught. Whenever he had the flu or merely just a cold, he took long, warm showers everyday.

Unfortunately, despite feeling a bit better, the shower hadn't given him anything but his lost work to think about, and the redhead pulled up his pants with a sigh. The thought of losing that job just wouldn't leave him, and to be honest, Sasori didn't feel very well either.

Why had they changed their mind?

Surely there had to be a reason. Sasori knew for a fact that no one could fire anyone without a reason. However, he failed to see the reason for rejecting his already accepted application. Could it be that he had done something stupid during the time he had lived here? The thought was doubtful. After all, he had been doing little to nothing for years now.

Maybe they had asked someone about him? The redhead's eyes narrowed slightly as he glared at one of the three big windows in his room.

Could it be that they knew about _that_?

No, that couldn't be it. Such a small thing wouldn't have much to do with such a company... right?

The rest of the day was used to run around in the city like a maniac as Sasori desperately tried to find a new job. Unfortunately, he didn't succeed; apparently, his red hair was way too weird for the daily leaders of most of the grocery stores. Also, the boss hadn't even wanted to speak to him in that one restaurant after he'd come stumbling inside. Literally. He could have such bad luck sometimes, and today definitely was one of those bad days; he had managed to trip in his own feet on the way and came in like an idiot. It had probably looked like he was far from sober, or just incredibly unstable.

Despite these reasons, he just couldn't understand why this was happening to him. He had never done anything (really) wrong in his life. But then again, maybe that thing was still on his record? It probably was. Those things weren't deleted just like that, were they?

Sasori sighed as he sat down by an empty table with his soda. The redhead had figured that taking a break would be a good idea, so he had stopped by a cafe (that wasn't hiring) and ordered a coke. He sipped from the bottle of glass. The taste of it was so fine! If he had the choice, he would choose to drink soda over water anytime -okay, so maybe not anytime, but at least most of the time. Water was nice too, very much indeed, but he mostly only drank it when he really needed to put out his thirst. Coke was so, so... wonderful, and he could drink it anytime; it wasn't something he got sick off.

Looking out of the window to his right and down at the street about a floor underneath him, he suddenly recognized a long haired blonde man. Then the blonde disappeared into the very same building, and Sasori suddenly couldn't help but to hope that the man would come up into the cafe and notice him. Oh my God, he was a bit pathetic, wasn't he?

He had barely even met the painter, but he was already so... so attracted to the older man. There just was something about the guy that caught his interest. It could be the obvious hurt and despair and grief.

His wish was granted as the blonde man from PAINT! came into view. His heart skipped and butterflies flew through his entire body. Was he blushing as well?

Fortunately, the feeling dimmed down ten folds when he noticed a quite familiar teenager come up beside the blonde.

Hidan?

But what the hell was the silver haired teen doing here -and with the painter none the less? Whatever the reason was, it didn't matter. It was obvious that the presence of Hidan was making the blond feel better; he wasn't looking as tired and grieving like that last time they'd met.

His best friend was making his somewhat-crush feel better, while he hadn't done anything at all. The thought of that really made him a little bit jealous.

Just then, as Sasori stared at the pair, his best friend suddenly turned his gaze over to him and noticed the redhead. Sasori blinked before he forced the bad feelings down, smiled and then waved at Hidan. He didn't have anything to be jealous about, and he knew that -deep down.

It took his best friend less than five seconds to cross the room and come over to him. Then he was pulled into a standing position and a tight hug. With a light smile, the redhead returned the hug before he pulled back to look at the younger teenager. When he sat back down into his chair, he noticed that the blond had come over as well, but it didn't look like the man remembered him.

That was kind of disappointing, but the feeling eased when they both sat down, Hidan next to him and the blond opposite of his friend.

"You know him, yeah?" the blond asked the silver haired boy, but he received no answer.


	6. The end

**Hi everyone,**

**I know that I've been a little «away» lately. Unfortunately, it looks like that isn't going to change. **

**For a year now I've been having troubles writing; I haven't had enough motivation throughout the year, and to be honest, I haven't received that many reviews that make me feel good about writing. I keep on thinking that I'm not doing a good job, and I've been thinking that I can't write for a while too, so now... now I just can't do it anymore.**

**I am able to come up with ideas, but as soon as I think of starting to type them down I get stuck thinking that, "no... what am I doing? What a ridiculous idea, no one will like that." **

**So I'm leaving this world – the anime fan fiction world. **

**I may be returning some day, but I feel like I'm growing out of this world and that growing out is right for me. **

**So, thanks for everything. **


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